


Skate for Me (And My Heart Just Melts)

by Pugglemuggle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Beyoncé References, Bitty Gets to Figure Skate, Bitty is HOT, Communication, Engagement, Figure Skater Bitty, Fluff, Future Fic, Healthy Relationships, I'd say that any apparent references to Yuri On Ice are purely coincidental but then I'd be lying, Jack is so in love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugglemuggle/pseuds/Pugglemuggle
Summary: Georgia lets Bitty do a figure skating performance during intermission at an upcoming Falcs game. It takes a lot of preparation but god, is it worth it. Jack can't look away.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [figureskaterbitty (gabsgen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabsgen/gifts).



> Sorry this is so late! I spent a long time after I got assigned this pinch-hit just trying to figure out which prompt to write for, since all of them are right up my alley. In the end I decided to go with your "Bitty and figure skating" prompt because... well.... The whole internet has been obsessed with gay figure skaters recently and I am no exception. I may still try to write for the other two prompts though, so stay tuned!
> 
> The song Bitty eventually skates to sounds something like [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fif8s6Guc5s) and I imagined that the routine would be some kind of cross between [Johnny Weir's Beyoncé Medley performance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG87wArD7i4) and [Johnny Weir's Poker Face performance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmzpCzQiGFM). I sort of headcanon that Johnny Weir was one of Bitty's biggest idols growing up. Doing a Johnny Weir/Beyoncé tribute at his boyfriend's hockey game is probably a dream come true. 
> 
> I don't really have a good reference image for Bitty's outfit during the performance. Just imagine [this outfit](http://static5.businessinsider.com/image/52fe7649ecad04c972063b8b-800-/469386837.jpg) that Yuzuru Hanyu wore, but the top is gold instead of white, and there's like, twice as much glitter.
> 
> As a disclaimer, I did not intend this fic to turn out this sappy. Be warned and enjoy!
> 
> Written for the 2016 'Swawesome Secret Santa.

“So, Georgia and I have been talking,” Bitty says in that tone he uses when he’s about to try to casually introduce something that may or may not be a big deal. Jack stops cutting the vegetables and turns around to look at Bitty directly. They're in Jack’s kitchen—their kitchen, he should say, or Bitty's kitchen, really. Bitty's not on the lease yet for the apartment, but he will be soon. He's lived here for almost a year now.

“What were you and Georgia talking about?” Jack asks, leaning back against the counter.

“Well,” Bitty says, “We got to talking about figure skating, since the Grand Prix Finals were last week, and I mentioned to her that I used to figure skate before I played hockey. I might have said that I sort of miss getting the chance to perform, and she started talking about how popular I am among fans after we came out last year, and she might have offered, well....” Bitty trails off. “The long and short of it is that she’s letting me do an intermission performance in January.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “During a Falcs game?”

Bitty nods. Jack can't help it—he’s grinning.

“What?” Bitty says. “What's that look? If you're chirping me, young man, I swear to God—”

“No, no, it's just,” Jack says, “I've never seen you perform before.”

Bitty actually looks surprised. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I must have shown you all an old routine or two back at Samwell.”

“You showed us a few moves every now and then but I've never seen you do a whole performance.”

“Huh...” Bitty murmurs. “Well, I guess you'll be in for a treat then. I'm going to make this my best performance yet, just you wait, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jack smiles.

_X_

Choosing a song proves to be more difficult than expected.

In early November, Jack gets home late after a long away series in Detroit only to find Bitty awake on the couch, hunched over his laptop and surrounded by CDs and sticky notes. He frowns.

“Hey, Bits,” he says. “It’s almost two in the morning—why are you still up?”

Bitty doesn’t respond. It’s then that Jack notices the earbuds poking out of Bitty’s ears and the faint tinny sound of the music leaking out of the headphones. He steps forward and gives Bitty’s shoulder a gentle tap.

“GAHH!” Bitty shouts. He jerks forward, almost letting his laptop slip off the couch before he yanks the headphones out of his ears and whips his torso around to face him. “ _Jack Laurent Zimmermann_ , give a man a warning before you creep up on him like that!” he berates. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Jack says, and means it. “I tried to say hello, but the headphones.... Anyway, why are you still awake?”

“Oh,” Bitty says. His cheeks are still pale from the fright, Jack notices. He moves a pile of CDs to the coffee table and takes a seat next to Bitty on the couch.

“I’ve been trying to decide on a song for my skating program in January,” Bitty explains. “There’s just _so much_ , you know? Plus I have all these CDs from when we were trying to decide on a song for my free skate in at Junior Regionals....”

“What were you listening to just now?”

“Nothing. It’s Johannes Brahms’ ‘Hungarian Dance No. 5,’” Bitty says. “It’s not the sort of music I like to listen to, I’ll tell you that. But it’s the best I have at the moment.”

“Can I hear it?”

“Sure,” Bitty says. He unplugs his headphones and hits play.

The song is nice enough, but Bitty’s right—it’s nothing like the pop music Jack usually hears him singing from the shower. The song is entirely orchestral, all strings and woodwinds and brass. He can't hear Bitty in it at all.

“I like the song but... it doesn't sound like you, Bits,” Jack says.

“Yeah...” Bitty agrees with a sigh. The sigh turns into a yawn, and then a stretch. “God, I'm tired. Maybe I should just keep looking in the morning.”

“Hey, Bits?”

“Hm?”

“Is there a reason you have to choose a classical song?”

“Well, in the past I've always skated to classical songs, and it's traditional, and—”

“Figure skating during the intermission of a hockey game isn't very traditional.”

“Well, that's true—”

“And it's never too late to try something new.”

Bitty is quiet for a moment. “I guess,” he says, “I guess I just wanted to make it good.”

“I'm sure you can make it good using your own music too,” Jack says. “Just be yourself.”

Bitty studies him, his eyes tired but alert. Then he starts to nod. “You know what? You're right. You're right, Jack. It's an exhibition skate. Plenty of figure skaters do fun exhibition skates. Johnny Weir did a— Oh.” Bitty's eyes go wide. “Oh!”

Bitty's eyes are practically glittering now, a wide smile stretching across his face. It's the same look he got just before he bought that Puck Bunny costume from eBay two years ago. Jack shifts a little on the couch.

“What is it?” Jack asks.

All Bitty can say is one word. He licks his lips in anticipation and then says, in a hushed, almost reverent tone, “Beyoncé.”

_X_

Jack can hear the wolf whistles all the way from the hallway when he comes to pick Bitty up from his reserved skating session at the Falcs practice arena.

Bitty has been trying to nail down his routine for weeks. Apparently he got in contact with his old figure skating coach, Katya, to help him figure out the choreography. Bitty says that she did most of the work on the routine but Jack suspects that Bitty doesn't give himself enough credit.

The whistling is still loud and clear by the time Jack gets to the rink. He catches Bitty just as he’s about to start a jump. Bitty leaps into the air and spins once, _twice_ , before landing on the outside edge of his right skate. From the sidelines, Tater, Marty, and Georgia burst into a round of applause.

“Good job, Bitty!” Tater hollers. “That was double toe loop, no?”

“Actually, it was a double Salchow, but thanks,” Bitty grins. Then he sees Jack. “Oh, Jack! I didn’t see you come in! How long have you been standing over there?”

“I just came in time to see that last jump,” Jack says, giving a small wave to the others. “What was all that whistling for, eh?”

“Your boy has one hell of a performance planned,” says Marty.

“Yeah,” Georgia agrees. “Be careful, Jack—by the end of it, I guarantee that at least half the stadium is going to have the hots for this kid.”

“Oh, shush,” says Bitty, but he’s grinning.

“When do I get to see the performance?” Jack asks. Bitty just waves a finger admonishingly at him as he skates over to the side of the rink.

“Patience, young man,” Bitty says. “You’re just going to have to wait until I perform it for everyone else.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it to be perfect for you, honey,” says Bitty sincerely. When Jack joins the others at the bench, he and Bitty share a quick kiss over the boards.

“Aw, you two so sweet, give me toothache,” Tater says.

“Quiet, Tater,” Georgia scolds. “Let them have their moment.”

“It’s fine,” Jack says. “Bits, are you ready to go, or do you want more time...?”

“I’m just going to run a couple more jumps and then I’ll be good for today,” Bitty replies. “This Salchow’s been giving me a little trouble.”

“Do you want me to look away while you practice them?” Jack teases. It makes Bitty giggle, and Jack can’t help but smile a little wider.

“No, no, you can watch, if you want,” Bitty says. “Maybe you can learn a thing or two.”

They all laugh, but Jack does watch. He watches every second.

_X_

When Jack comes home after an early morning practice in December, he finds the floor of his apartment littered with what seems like hundreds of scraps of fabric. He almost doesn’t notice Lardo and Bitty whispering together on the floor in the middle of the mess until they both abruptly stop talking.

“Oh, Jack,” Lardo says. “Sup.”

“Hi...” Jack replies. He puts his keys up on the hook on the wall and tries to find a safe path to step through the entryway. “Um, can I ask....”

“It’s my outfit. For the skating performance,” Bitty says quickly. “I’m commissioning Lardo for a costume—isn’t that great?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s awesome,” Jack says. “I can’t wait to see what you make.”

“I’m not really being commissioned,” says Lardo. “I’m making the costume, and in return you’re buying the old Samwell team tickets to see Bitty perform at your game. I expect front row seats.”

“Of course,” Jack grins.

“I’m so excited about this outfit, Jack.” Bitty gushes. “It’s going to be the best one I’ve ever performed in, and we haven’t even started sewing.”

“We’re taking inspiration from Beyoncé’s concert outfits,” Lardo adds, gesturing to the piles of glittering black and gold fabric. “But I’m not matching any specific outfit. It’s going to be a one-of-a-kind piece.”

Bitty opens his mouth to say something else, but then a series of beeps rings out from the kitchen. “Oh! That’ll be the pecan pie.” He rushes out of the room.

For a few minutes, Jack and Lardo wait in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of Bitty fussing around in the kitchen. The noises are so commonplace he thinks that one of these days, he’s going to stop noticing them. Not yet, though. These sounds more than anything make the apartment feel like home.

After another minute or so, Jack catches Lardo’s eye. He raises an eyebrow in a silent question, but she just shakes her head—Lardo-speak for “No comment.” She does, however, tap Jack’s leg and say, “You’ll be able to watch Bitty’s performance from the bench or something, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Why?”

Lardo shakes her head again and says, “Just make sure you’re there. And keep your skates on.”

“Who wants pie?” Bitty calls from the kitchen. Jack lets the conversation go and tucks Lardo’s suggestion away for later.

_X_

Jack is almost asleep when he feels Bitty shift again on the mattress and swing his legs over the side of the bed. It’s almost midnight.

“Bits?” he asks into the dark. “You okay?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bitty whispers back. In the faint light leaking in from the window, Jack can make out the hunched curve of Bitty’s back and the way he’s wringing his hands in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks, feeling more awake now. “Bits....”

“I’m just... I’m nervous,” Bitty admits.

“About the performance on Thursday?”

Bitty doesn’t say anything, but Jack thinks he sees him nod.

“You’re going to be great,” Jack says. “I know you will.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Bitty says, turning back a little to give Jack a wan smile. “I’m not really worried about the performance itself so much as... well.” Bitty pauses, fidgeting with the sheet a little. “It’s only been a couple years since you came out to the whole NHL. Falconers fans know about me, but this performance... it’s _very_ public. I don’t want to force you to be public about something you’d rather be kept private.”

“Bitty, we’ve talked about this,” Jack says. He sits up, scoots to the edge of the bed, and takes Bitty’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over Bitty’s knuckles. “You’re not my secret—you’re my boyfriend. When we came out, we did it because we were ready. I don’t want to hide you from anyone—I don’t want to hide _us_. We’re a team.”

“I know, I know. You’re right,” Bitty says, leaning his head against Jack’s shoulder. “I guess I just wanted to make sure, before... before Thursday.”

“Listen,” Jack says seriously. “Nothing makes me happier than showing the world how much I love you, and how much you love me.”

Bitty gives him a watery smile. “I love you, Jack,” Bitty says. “So much.”

“I know,” Jack says. “I love you too.”

“God knows how many times I’ve said this, but... you’re it for me, Mr. Zimmermann,” says Bitty. “I honestly can’t picture my life going any other way.”

Jack’s heart soars. He’ll never get tired of Bitty saying those words.

“Me too, Bits,” Jack says. “Me too.”

It doesn’t take either of them very long to fall asleep after that.

_X_

On the day of Bitty’s performance, the Falconers are up two to one against the Houston Aeros by the end of the second period. Jack hears the buzzer sound and skates with the rest of his line back to the bench.

“Time for Bittle to skate, eh?” Marty says.

“I will watch him,” says Tater. “I stay at bench with Zimboni, yes? No locker room for us.”

“Is that a thing we can do?” Poots asks. “Because, if it is, then I want to stay out here too.”

“Hm,” Guy agrees.

“I’ll watch,” says Snowy, swinging a heavily padded leg awkwardly up over the boards to climb into the bench. “He looked pretty fucking good at the practice rink.”

“The performance won’t last the whole intermission, right?” Thirdy says. “We can stay and watch. Coach’s briefing can wait.”

A couple minutes later after the Aeros have all emptied the rink, Bitty steps out of the locker room and makes his way to the bench. The outfit Lardo made him is incredible; the bottoms are all tight-fitting glittering black fabric, and the top is a rich dark gold that sparkles under the bright arena lights. A black trim runs around his sleeves and neckline.

“ _Mon dieu,_ ” says Marty. Jack shares his sentiments.

“What do you think?” Bitty asks Jack, extending his hands out from his sides to give Jack a better view. “Is this okay? Is it too much?”

“It’s perfect,” Jack assures him. He gives Bitty a quick peck on the cheek before Bitty steps out through the gate and out onto the ice.

 _“And now we have a special intermission performance from Eric Bittle, partner to our very own Jack Zimmermann,”_ the announcer says. “ _He’ll be figure skating to a medley of songs by Beyoncé.”_

As Bitty skates out to center ice, the lights dim. A single spotlight illuminates him in the middle of the rink as he poses with his legs apart and his head down, his arms crossed over his chest. The entire arena waits with bated breath.

“ _Nine..._.” The song starts to count. “ _Four....”_ With every number, Bitty begins to move his hands from his chest to his waist to his hips. “ _Eight....”_ His arms are at his sides now, his hands closed in fists. “ _One....”_

And Bitty springs into action.

Bitty skates in time with the music, each foot landing on the beat as he circles the rink. His hands are on his hips as he spins, turns, skates backwards, and forwards again. He holds the gaze of the entire arena; Jack can’t imagine looking anywhere else.

Right off the bat, Bitty sets up for a jump. He enters the jump skating backwards, leaping into the air and spinning—two? Three times? Jack’s not quite sure. Either way, Bitty sticks the landing perfectly, and the people in the stands begin to cheer in earnest.

The music shifts effortlessly into a different Beyoncé song, one that Jack recognizes. “ _Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh, no, no.”_ He’s heard Bitty play this one in the shower, during workouts, at parties back at Samwell. Bitty strides back to center ice and begins to dance the way he used to at kegsters, all hips and wide, sweeping arm movements—only, he’s doing it all on ice, not on a table. _“Got me looking so crazy right now, your love’s got me looking so crazy right now.”_ Bitty skates forward with one hand on the back of his head and the other resting just below his waist, then rolls his hips once. Jack’s mouth goes dry.

He feels a bit like Bitty’s holding him captive. Bitty’s face tells almost as much of the story as his body does, and Jack can’t tear his eyes away. Jack thinks that Bitty might be lipsyncing the entire performance, his lips forming around every word with care. His eyes sweep around the arena, never lingering long enough on any individual to truly constitute any kind of interaction—except, Jack swears that there are several points in the program that Bitty stares directly at him, as though this whole performance is just for him.

It’s absolutely intoxicating.

Jack watches as Bitty flies through the rest of the routine, pulling off song change after song change. He skates low down close to the ice, spins on his toes with his arms extended overhead, leaps, loops wide, lunges, and spins again. Bitty jumps three more times: a double, one that seems halfway between a double and a triple, and a jump that looks like the one he saw Bitty working on at the practice facility—a double Salchow? The way Bitty moves during these jumps seems almost inhuman. He’s strong and graceful and seductive all at once.

When Bitty’s skate hits the ice after his final jump, the music changes again for what Jack guesses must be the last time. The call and response of _“All the single ladies!”_ echoes around the arena. At center ice, Bitty turns to face the bench, and there’s no mistaking it now—he really is skating for Jack. They lock eyes across the ice as Bitty’s hip swinging returns in full-force. The dance steps seem familiar. Jack wonders if he’s seen Bitty dance this before, or if this is the dance Beyoncé herself performed with this song. The answer is most likely both.

Bitty extends his arm outward towards Jack, shaking his hand at the wrist. _“If you like it then you should have put a ring on it. If you like it then you should have put a ring on it.”_ The song is almost over. The last few bars of the song ring out across the ice, and Bitty’s arm is still reaching out, like he’s trying to pull Jack closer. He stays like this even after the song ends and the audience in the arena bursts into applause.

Tater bumps Jack’s shoulder. “Hey Zimboni, I think Bittle wants you go out on ice,” he says.

“Hm?”

Bitty waves a little with his outstretched arm, gesturing for Jack to come closer.

“Oh.”

Jack climbs over the boards and skates out to center ice where Bitty is shifting from foot to foot, his face still flushed from the performance. The way his outfit glitters in the arena lighting makes him look damn near celestial. “That was incredible,” Jack says honestly when he’s close enough. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Bitty says. He grips Jack’s forearms tightly before he slides back a little to hold Jack’s hands instead. Then he looks up and meets Jack’s eyes.  “Jack?” he says, his voice unsure. He hasn’t heard Bitty sound this way since Bitty suggested they move in together. He leans a little closer, grateful that none of the guys with the mics have seen fit to come join them on the ice. They’re in a crowded stadium with over 15,000 people but this conversation is just for them.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know we’ve talked about the future a lot, so I know we’re on the same page about this, but we’ve never—well, I don’t know if we’ve ever talked about this _specifically_ , but we’ve been dating for, gosh, is it four years now? Or is it three and a half? Our first kiss was at your graduation in May of 2015 but—”

“Bits.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m babbling now, aren’t I? Goodness gracious, I had a whole speech planned out and I’m just messing it all up—”

“ _Bits_ ,” Jack says again, and Bitty stops rambling. Jack puts a hand on Bitty’s cheek. “What did you want to say?”

“Jack,” Bitty says, taking a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

Everything seems to fall into place all at once. This feeling, it’s better than writing the final word of his senior thesis, or scoring a game-winning goal, or hoisting the Calder. The world is right again, and Jack Zimmermann is going to marry Eric Bittle. He does the only thing that seems natural.

He leans in and kisses Bitty.

He’s so outrageously happy that he’s allowed to have this, that he can kiss his boyfriend—his _fiancé—_ in front of everyone in the whole world without having to feel afraid. The noise from the stands melts away until it’s just the two of them on the ice, just Bitty’s lips against his own and Bitty’s cheek against his palm and Bitty’s hand resting on his arm. He feels lost and found at the same time.

Bitty pulls away suddenly. “Oh,” he says. “I forgot to....” He fiddles with a chain around his neck until he pulls up a ring that he’d been hiding underneath the fabric of his top. Then he kneels down towards the ice and gets on one knee. “Jack—”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to say yes,” Jack says.

“Hold your horses, just let me ask the question again,” Bitty insists.

“Okay, okay.”

“So, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Yes?”

“Marry me?”

“Of course,” Jack grins. He feels Bitty slide the ring onto his finger, and the sounds of the arena slowly fade back into focus. He’s never heard the stands get this loud. Off to his left, he hears a loud banging sound and when he turns to look he sees Shitty, Ransom, Holster, and most of the rest of the old Samwell Men’s Hockey team making as much noise as they can as they pound at the glass. He gives them a wave.

The next thing Jack knows, he’s almost getting bowled over by half the Falconers. “ _Félicitations!_ ” Marty says just as Tater envelops him in a rib-crushing bear hug. Thirdy and Snowy are there, too, and then Bitty’s back in front of him again so he kisses him. The team hollers and whistles around them.

“Oh, shush,” Bitty says. “C’mon, we gotta take this off the ice so they can clean it up for the third period.”

“Zimboni get off and Zamboni get on,” Tater says sagely.

By the time they all get back to the bench, the press have finally caught on to what exactly just happened, and both he and Bitty are mobbed by questions like, “When will the wedding be?” and “Did you expect him to propose tonight?” and “Can we see the ring?” Jack tries to answer as best he can (“I don’t know, no, yes”) but Bitty’s hand is intertwined with his, and it’s difficult to pay attention to anything but him. Marty eventually has to escort them out to the locker room so Coach can give them a heavily abbreviated mid-game strategy talk before they head back onto the ice.

They beat the Aeros five to one, giving them a three-point period. Jack scores one of the goals and gets the assist on the remaining two. “Man, we should have you get proposed to more often,” Snowy jokes. Jack still hasn’t stopped smiling.

“How does July sound?” Jack asks Bitty on the car ride home. It’s late, since the reporters kept them much longer than usual. “By July I’ll be in off-season, so we won’t have to worry about scheduling as much.”

“A summer wedding...” Bitty says, smiling. “That’s perfect.”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees. He glances at Bitty sitting next to him in the passenger seat, his face tired but radiant. His eyes are the brightest things Jack has ever seen. “Perfect.”

_Fin._

 


End file.
